Greatest Loss
by DoubleL27
Summary: All it takes is one death to shake up an entire family and leave them wondering what's next. A glimpse at the Weasley clan and friends as they are forced to deal with the death of their matriarch. UpdatedFred
1. Charlie

This story has been a long time in coming.  I started it before OotP and got stuck and then OotP helped me to finish up.  Another great asset has been my sometimes beta LilyAyl who has pushed me through this and is dying to read every word.  I wouldn't have managed this story without her.  This is the first installment, seven more to follow.  I hope you enjoy.  Either way leave me a reply to let me know how I'm doing.

~*~

There were some things no one ever wanted to do, and this was one of them. Bloody hell, she wasn't even supposed to be on duty tonight. This was her night off. She was heading off to see her boyfriend's newest place, and now instead of being on time for dinner and whatever else was entailed in that package, she was hours late with news she didn't want to deliver.

Nymphadora Tonks stepped out of the fireplace, having been too exhausted to trust herself apparating over there by herself. The place looked cozy and comfortable, but still very much bachelorish, very much Charlie. It was nearly comforting.

"You're even later than usual," Charlie's voice came to her as he walked out of another room, most likely the kitchen of this new flat. He was smiling at her, as if he didn't mind. 

She attempted to give him a smile, but it came out somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "Big case came up," she said with a half shrug. "You know Kingsley when it comes to stuff like this."

"Well, you're here now. Dinner's cold, but I'm sure we could find other ways to occupy ourselves," Charlie learned before he lowered his mouth to her neck.

"Charlie. Charlie, wait," Tonks insisted, pushing him away and creating space between them. She straightened out the shirt he'd managed to rumple and then looked at him with serious eyes. "We need to talk."

As whenever a man is faced with that phrase, Charlie put his hands up as if in self-defense and backed up a few paces. "Tonks."

She bit on her lip in nervousness. He was looking at her like he'd never laid eyes on her before, that couldn't be a good sign. "I think it would be best if you sat down," she said eventually.

He tilted his head a bit and advanced towards her like he had a plan to stop her from doing what it was he thought she was doing. "Nymphadora, I thought we were having a wonderful—"

She closed her eyes and a part of her truly wished he were on the right track. It would have been easier and he would have been able to convince her. Instead she nodded at him. "We are. I don't know how to do this."

"I love you," she said eventually, putting her hands on either side of his face to emphasize the point. "And I'm not here to break it off with you, farthest thing from it. The case I was working on..."

Charlie shifted nervously after a few minutes of silence. "Yeah? Spit it out. You're worrying me."

She pursed her lips and then took in a deep breath before continuing. "There was another attack on a wizarding family, a particularly nasty one."

"Tonks…"

Tears flooded her eyes and the words she'd been preparing to say since she'd arrived on the scene of the Burrow flowed out. "I'm so sorry Charlie."

He moved a few steps closer, fear shadowing his own eyes. "Who was it?" he asked desperately now. He knew it was a member of his family now, but he needed to know which one. Tonks could nearly see the list running through his head.

"It was your mother, Charlie," she managed to get out around a sob. "It was Molly. I'm so sorry, I didn't want to be the one to do this, I didn't," she finished, shaking her head to emphasize the point.

She watched him walk away from her. He was staring off into space with a blank look on his face as if nothing was recognizable to him anymore. He stopped a few feet away, just staring, and all Tonks could do was watch. She wanted to go to him and put her arms around him, but she wasn't sure he'd accept that from her. Not Charlie. Especially when she had been the one who was forced to deliver the news about Molly. Damn them for thinking she was the one who should do this.

"No, no, it's not true," he said finally, denial taking over. He stormed across the room and took her by the arms and gave her a quick shake. "You've got the facts wrong."

"Kingsley and I were called to the scene Charlie, I… I saw…" her voice hitched; she couldn't relive the moment then. Instead Tonks relocated her gaze to the floor before squeezing her eyelids shut. "Just trust me alright."

"She's… she's really gone." His voice was quiet and broken. Her gaze was forced up and she could see tears lingering in Charlie's eyes. 

"Yes."

He turned away and began to look around the place he'd moved into so recently. "She was… she was just here. Telling me how this flat wasn't suitable if I had honorable intentions towards you." Charlie shook his head in disbelief before turning back to her. "I just can't think that she won't be here to say it again. There were things that I should have told her that I didn't. Things that I needed to tell her."

Tonks ran a hand through Charlie's hair in an attempt to comfort him. "She knows." And with Molly it was likely she did know. There wasn't much that had ever gotten passed her.

"She wasn't supposed to go yet," Charlie said, still trying to push it all away. 

Tonks could find no reply and instead just continued to hold him as best she could. Knowing that he would soon breakdown completely, she gently guided Charlie over to the couch and sat with him there, pulling him close, and simply allowing him his chance to cry.


	2. George

George  
  
It wasn't the fanciest place Grace had ever seen, but then she supposed it wouldn't be. Instead it was comfortable and well lived in. And Grace would prefer to use the word cozy instead of small. But nonetheless it was a bachelor apartment, with sports memorabilia and other such things covering walls and shelves and the relatively sparse kitchen.  
  
There were the occasional hints of a woman, including a bra Grace had come across in the couch that evening, but George had blushed furiously and insisted it must be Angelina's as were the other feminine affects around the place. But those were still few and far between.  
  
Currently Grace sat at the window and Watched the busy streets below her fascinated by the goings on of the Wizarding World that existed here in London, unbenounced to all the normal humans such as herself. It was shocking and delightful. The colored robes, the odd packages, the constant movement and cobblestone streets nearly had Grace Believing she'd been transported to another world or at least another time.  
  
"Are you nearly done?" George's dry voice came from behind her.  
  
"Hmm?" Grace murmured, turning her head away from the street for a moment to see him leaning against the doorjamb to the kitchen, watching her.  
  
George's mouth lifted into a smile as he headed over to her. "You've been gawking out there almost as soon as you were done with the moving pictures in the house. One would think you're more interested in a simple city street than a gorgeous man whose greatest wish it so love you and make you happy," he murmured the last line as he joined her on the couch and leaned over her.  
  
"I've never been in a magical place before. It's all so amazing and awe- inspiring. I can hardly believe it. I feel quite like Alice with her looking glass."  
  
"Well lets just consider it a small miracle we got you in here. Hell I'm not even sure you should be here."  
  
"It will be fine George. It's just dinner and then. after dinner," she finished rather lamely. Still blushing she moved to burry her head in his chest.  
  
"I like the sound of that," George commented, nudging her so had an open shot at her earlobe. He nibbled on it attempting to get a rise out of her.  
  
"George," she said, pushing at him to create space between them. When his face was right next to hers she whispered, "Dinner first."  
  
He arched an eyebrow at her, looking a bit displeased. "You're no fun 'tall. Did you know that?" he asked her, sounding put off."  
  
Grace merely pursed her lips and nodded solemnly. "Yes."  
  
"Saucy wench," George grumbled as he lifted himself off her and headed for the kitchen. Grace stood and followed after him, biting her lip so as not to laugh.  
  
George laid the food down on the table as she took her seat. "It looks delicious." "Mum insisted we all know how to take care of ourselves in the case a woman didn't want us. Now, explain to me why it is you read fairy tales when some of the things that happen in them are so grotesque. I mean old witches intending to eat young children and cursed household objects that could kill you."  
  
Grace wasn't' paying attention to him but was instead staring out the window. "George, why is there an owl at the window?"  
  
George turned and spotted the tawny owl with a letter clamped in its talons. He turned back round to give her a grin. "Owl post, love, owl post."  
  
George stood and headed for the window. "Seems a bit late for it though," he said, opening the window and taking the letter. "To Messurs Fred and George Weasley. Ah yes, another bit of fan mail I wonder?" he asked, pulling it under his nose with a flourish. "No perfume."  
  
Grace only giggled and threw her napkin at her boyfriend who was grinning magically. "Get on with it."  
  
"Messurs Fred and George Weasley,  
  
The Ministry of Magic hates to inform you of the tragic death."  
  
George trailed off, his face going pale, and leaving Grace wondering whose tragic death the letter bore witness to. Whoever it was, George was completely devoid of color and shaking. She watched him, biting into her lip out of nerves and curiousness as his eyes scanned the words over and over again, as if they refused to let it sink in.  
  
He stood without so much as a glance or a word to her and went to his fireplace. He picked up what looked like a handful of soot from a jar on the mantle and appeared to be ready to throw it into the flames. Instead of following through, he let it fall back into the jar instead.  
  
"George?" Grace ventured, hoping for some kind o response.  
  
"Fred wouldn't go this far on a joke," he said, talking to himself and not to her. He didn't even notice as she stood. "It's not his style. I should know," he told her, looking up finally, "as we share a style most of the time. He's not cruel. Although I nearly wish he was."  
  
Grace was by his side now. She lifted her hands to touch him but couldn't seem to figure out where to place them so instead she let them fall. "George, who."  
  
"My mum. She's--" he broke off suddenly, unable to finish the sentence. "Merlin I need to tell Fred." He whirled towards the fireplace.  
  
"George, hold on a moment," Grace said, shooting out a hand to grab his arm. She couldn't even comprehend, but instead wrapped her arms around his neck. "I wish there were words."  
  
"Grace I." he trailed off, sinking into her warm embrace. For the moment she was his lifeline. He didn't want to feel anything but her, think about anyone other than his Grace. "Grace!" he exclaimed suddenly, wrenching away from her.  
  
Grace looked at him through confused eyes. "What?" she asked, highly concerned about what was going on in his head.  
  
He said nothing to her but only took her by the wrist and dragged her towards the front hall closet. "George stop it. Let go."  
  
"We need to get out of here, now," he insisted, punctuating the last word. He opened the closet quickly and pulled her coat.  
  
Grace wrenched her wrist from him and stared at him with confused eyes. "I'm not going anywhere with you like this. Why would I leave you?"  
  
"Don't you get it?" George practically shouted as he turned towards her, shocking her into backing up a step. "You're not safe here. They killed my mother because she's a member of the Order. Because a relationship like ours is wrong to them on every level. They'd kill you in a heartbeat. I can't put you in danger."  
  
Grace couldn't come up for a reply for that. Instead she let George place her coat over her shoulder and open the front door. Suddenly something came to her causing her to lay her hand on his arm. "George, wouldn't it be more dangerous if we headed out now? They'd know you're worried, and there'd be proof that I was here. Just. just let me stay the night. I'll go in the morning if that's what you want."  
  
"It's not that I want." George closed his eyes in order to regain his composure. Instead he drew her into his arms. "I can't lose you. Not now."  
  
Grace lay her head on his shoulder wishing she knew what exactly she was supposed to be doing. "I know, I know. I'm not going anywhere." 


	3. Percy

Percy  
  
For Percy Weasley it was another late night working on a needed law for the ministry. He used to work overtime because he believed in the system, back before the incident with Crouch. Now he worked overtime to fix problems within it. Admittedly that was hard to do when your family saw what you were doing as a scrambling attempt to get on their good side, when in truth he'd been working with them all along. The fact that his parents knew this was a wonderful blessing.  
  
He was so focused on his work he didn't hear his wife exit the bedroom in the back of their small house and come to watch him.  
  
Penelope regarded him with the eyes of the longtime lover she was. His position was all too familiar , that hunched over, hyper-dedicated pose that had been familiar to her years ago when she had sat with him in the library. Had it only been seven years ago that she'd begun to associate with and fall for the tall and lanky prefect?  
  
Spotting his weariness she crossed the room and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Percy, you need to get some sleep."  
  
He didn't even look up at her, but instead continued with what he was doing. He was nearly done, could nearly feel comfortable when this had been completed successfully. "Give me a minute Pen."  
  
"Percy!"  
  
"I'll be up in a minute Penelope I promise. And you shouldn't be awake at this hour," he said, looking at her with his ever famous "I know best" expression that drove just about everyone up the wall. "You need your rest."  
  
Penny laughed a bit, remembering all too fondly the nights he'd never had problems keeping her up to all hours, be his intentions romantic or if he had a new theory for helping the wizarding world. "You're becoming more of a worrier than you were before," she commented, leaning over and kissing him gently.  
  
"With good reason," he murmured. Then he turned to her and rubbed his hand affectionately over her slightly rounded belly.  
  
An odd tapping at the window made her stand straight and turn. "Post at this time of night?"  
  
She crossed the room quickly and took the letter from the owl that swooped in. "It's for you Perce." Percy stood and joined his wife and slipped the letter out of her fingers. He examined it carefully as if it might be dangerous. "Thanks. Odd don't you think?" he asked finally as he stopped turning the letter and neatly opened it.  
  
Penny watched as his eyes skimmed the parchment quickly and proficiently as he had done for seemingly forever. He paused, staring at it as if the words written on it were in no language he he'd ever seen and then began again, more diligently.  
  
Then he did something she'd never seen him do. He ripped the letter into pieces and threw it in the trash barrel. He then turned and walked away from her before freezing. She followed his gaze to the pictures that lined their mantle.  
  
"Percy?"  
  
""Mum," was the only thing audible that came through his lips, and even that was little more than a whisper.  
  
"I. I have to go home," he said finally, shaking himself out of the trance he'd been in.  
  
Percy moved quickly picking up his wand and his various forms of identification. He was poised to apperate out of their modest home when Penny caught his arm.  
  
"You're not apperating, not when you are this upset," she insisted. "You're too likely to get splinched."  
  
"I have to," he said, wrenching his arm away from her while attempting to be gentle. I have to see form myself. She can't be dead," he muttered eventually, more to himself than her. But the words made Penny gasp and take a step back.  
  
His gaze snapped to hers, his eyes blazing with that passion she'd always loved seeing. "It's a lie," he practically growled. "They're trying to flush us all out with a lie."  
  
Penny bent and picked up the discarded envelope. She fingered the perfect seal that she had seen all too often. It, along with the envelope, was Ministry regulation. The seal was that of Cornelius Fudge himself. "Percy, I don't think it is."  
  
"They could have stolen the damn seal. This is my mum, she can't be dead. No one in the family would let it happen."  
  
"Of course they wouldn't," she said in reassurance, but couldn't help but be realistic where her husband couldn't. "But that doesn't mean--"  
  
"She isn't dead!" he shouted at her.  
  
Penny took a few steps towards him but he backed away. "She isn't dead," he repeated in a whisper.  
  
And then, in an instant, there were tears in Percy's eyes that hadn't been there the moment before. And he never looked more like the young confused child she supposed he had been the last time this war had affected their world. A time she's never known about.  
  
He burried his head in his hands and sunk to a sitting position on the floor. "She can't be gone Penny. You don't understand. I can't have lost her like this."  
  
Now that he would be wiling to accept her, Penny rushed to his side and sat beside him. She wrapped her arms as tightly around him as she could. "Percy."  
  
He turned his face to her shoulder and began to sob. "There were so many things. I didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't get to say goodbye."  
  
Tears leaked out of her own eyes as she gently stroked the hair on his head in an attempt to sooth. "It'll be alright. Eventually it'll be alright."  
  
"No," he managed in a clear and resolute voice. "It won't ever be alright again." 


	4. Fred

Fred  
  
Fred pulled the woman next to him closer, her chocolate colored skin making a stunning contrast with his own. He had to admit there was something truly amazing about a woman who at the age of twelve had been the only girl not to scream "eww" as a stream of slugs flowed through the common room. She'd only become more special with her love of quidditch and the fact that she was willing to talk him out of food for dinner every once in awhile.  
  
"Thanks for letting me stay the night after the ungrateful lout kicked me out," Fred mumbled rather sleepily into Angelina's braids.  
  
Fred could almost hear Angelna's mouth turn up in a smile. "He's being sweet."  
  
"He's being bloody annoying and you're taking the enemy's side," he grumbled lightheartedly, squeezing her a bit as if to send a message of displeasure.  
  
"He's not the enemy and we both know that," she responded, ignoring his signals, and instead relaxing into him as if she had nothing better to do for the next few days than to lounge around with him. He certainly hoped that was the case. "Besides I rather like my place, it lacks the danger of yours. Poor Grace."  
  
Fred detangled himself a bit and leaned on an elbow to look down at her, a luxury he didn't often get. "What?" he asked with an innocent grin. "Danger is fun."  
  
Angelina laid a hand flat against his chest, and there was a hint of something, fear, in her eyes and in her voice as she said, "Don't say that."  
  
Fred could only speculate that she was thinking of his and George's agreement to join the order and use their ingenuity to come up with creative and unsuspecting weapons. She hadn't been pleased by the news. He lifted his hand to her head and ran it through the long braids to comfort. "Angie, you know I don't mean anything by it."  
  
She wrapped her arms around him and forced him back to the bed, her head on his chest. "It doesn't matter," she mumbled, her head in his chest. "Just don't, alright."  
  
Fred closed his eyes and held her back. "I gotcha."  
  
"You always have."  
  
"Well that's doubtful. If I lose the shirt off my back in my company will I still have you?" he asked, pulling her back a bit and quirking an eyebrow. He had to attempt humor, he didn't want to let that go yet.  
  
"Yes. Besides, you two have been selling out of stuff since you opened the doors. You won't be losing any bits of clothing through the company."  
  
"There's still time, people may get tired of us in favor of Zonko's."  
  
"Zonko's has nothing on you and you know it. Now," Angelina said, running her fingers over his chest. "I'd rather be stroking your male ego in another way, if you catch my drift."  
  
Fred grinned back at her for the innuendo. "I think I just might."  
  
"Fred!" George's voice cut through both of their thoughts.  
  
"Oi," Fred exclaimed, punctuating his roll out of bed. He made sure he was clothed in something before crouching down before the fireplace and sticking his head in. "For Merlin's sake, please don't tell me you've burned the flat and the shop to the ground."  
  
"Fred, we need to go home."  
  
"You are home," Fred reasoned, confused, too focused on George to notice Angelina slipping out of bed and putting on her dressing gown.  
  
"NO Fred, Home," George explained slowly as if the words were painful. "There was a letter for us. Mum." he trailed off.  
  
A pit of fear began to accumulate in Fred's belly, and there was a part of him that knew exactly what his twin was trying to tell him. But he couldn't really believe it until he heard it. "Mum? Mum what George? Come on George, make sense."  
  
"The letter was from the ministry Fred. She's gone. They've killed her."  
  
Angelina's arms were already around him as he sagged. For a moment a grateful thought flitted through his head before the truth hit him full force. Just yesterday she had sent he and George an owl about her being proud of the joke shop and all they'd done with it, a miracle they hadn't seen coming. And now it had been switched to tragedy.  
  
"We--We'll be there George," Fred stammered, wondering if he'd ever manage to stand again. "Just wait. Alright?"  
  
"Yeah. I. I'll be here."  
  
The fire went back to normal flame and Angelina pressed her lips against his head. "Oh baby. I've got you alright. I've got you," she murmured rocking him softly.  
  
"She was proud of us," George said after a few minutes of silence. It was the only coherent thing he could keep a hold of.  
  
"I know."  
  
"She sent a letter and everything. It's at the flat."  
  
"It must have been wonderful to receive. Come on now, we'll get you dressed and back over to your place." He gave her a look that let her know that he just wanted to stay where he was. That was just fine in her book but she said what would get him moving and the reason she couldn't let him stay. "You promised George."  
  
That got him moving, but not quickly. He picked up his trousers before he looked back at her. "You're coming with me right?"  
  
"Of course. Where else would I go?"  
  
He was still staring at her robe in hand all prepared to put it on. "I don't always tell you how much I need you, but I do."  
  
"Fred--"  
  
He plowed through whatever it was she was going to say. Some things needed to be said. "Always have. I love you Angelina."  
  
"I love you too." 


	5. Bill

Bill  
  
Isabella Vector entered the flat she shared with her new husband Bill Weasley. She hadn't gotten home at her usual hour due to grading exams for her fifth year students. The second she had finished she had headed home, looking to crawl into bed and sleep her Saturday away.  
  
The first place she went was their bedroom, but there was no one in there. She looked at the bedside clock, it read 10, the wrong hour to be coming in from work, but usually Bill could be found in bed due to early mornings for the Order. "Bill?" She called out, leaving the room and heading out into the rest of the flat. "Bill, where are you?"  
  
"Bella," she heard him call from the kitchen. His voice sounded much scratchier and much more unused than normal.  
  
The voice worried her. It was so unlike Bill whom she often likened to a rock. As she got closer to the kitchen her pace quickened. Finally she stood in the doorway, and caught sight of Bill sitting at the table looking nearly as bad as his voice had sounded.  
  
"What is it? What's happened?" she asked as she took a seat across from him at the table and took his hands in hers.  
  
His head rose slowly and his eyes finally met hers there was loss in them. "Death eaters attacked the house. They killed Mum."  
  
"Oh Bill."  
  
She stood and rounded the table and moved to sit in his lap, just to hold him. Bill accepted her wordlessly without much resistance. She wrapped her arms around him and placed her head to hers before feeling his arms tighten instinctively around her. She knew that this would be a rare occasion, as it was much more likely to be him holding her.  
  
There were no tears, not from Bill at this moment. He was trying to pull himself together and she could accept that. She sat there trying to transfer some of her strength into him as she worked out the numbers in her head. They didn't fit, they made no sense. She felt a tear leak from her own eyes and then quickly pulled them back. This wasn't what was needed now.  
  
"She's supposed to be around to push us to have kids," he said finally. "Yell at me about the long hair and earring and swear that it's not a sign of settling down."  
  
Bella placed a errant piece of long hair that had fallen out of the ponytail he often wore behind his ear. "She loved you."  
  
Bill raised one side of his mouth in an attempt at a half smile. "She loved you too, she just never really got around to mentioning it." The smile disappeared as his focused returned to the ministry signed piece of parchment before him. "I've been sitting here since the letter arrived trying to make some sense of the words on the page. It doesn't make any sense at all."  
  
"Should it?" Bella asked, to both him and herself, wondering if things like this would ever make sense. She just wished the numbers worked out for this.  
  
"Yes. No. I don't know." He pulled his hands over his face in a restless motion, as if he was attempting to scrape away all the heavy emotion that had fallen on him. "And I've just been sitting here," he spat as if disgusted with himself.  
  
"What else would you be doing?" Bella asked confused. Before she could make him clarify that he had moved her off of his lap and was standing.  
  
He stared at her for a second as if he couldn't place her before shaking his head. "I have to go home and take care of this," Bill said, suddenly mobile, nearly running towards their room.  
  
She followed behind him quickly as his voice still echoed back to her. "Dad isn't going to be in any shape, which leaves me in charge. Ron and Ginny are going to have to come home from Hogwarts, the twins are going to have to drag themselves away from their plans, Percy and the ministry. Shit!"  
  
He looked down into the drawer he'd just opened and realized that it wasn't his stuff. He slammed it shut and wrenched open the next one and began to pull out garments.  
  
Bella watched him from the doorway wishing she knew how to deal with this better. She hated feeling lost and she hated uncertainty. "This doesn't all fall on you."  
  
"Yes it does." He turned to her after placing a pile of clothes into one of his bags. "I'm the eldest; this is my responsibility."  
  
Responsibility, she knew responsibility. That was one thing she knew she could definitely handle. She took in a deep breath and then released it before she stepped towards him. "Alright, what do you need me to do?"  
  
"I can handle this Isabella," he snapped as he continued to pack his bag.  
  
"I don't intend to let you do this alone." She walked across the room and laid a hand on his chest, making him stop what he was doing. "Listen to me for two seconds; I understand you're stubborn and pigheaded and are determined to do this alone because you're the oldest and it's your job, but you aren't alone."  
  
"You didn't sign up for anything like this."  
  
"No," Bella said, reaching up and taking his face in her hands to make him focus on her and just her. "Just life with you. This is part of that."  
  
Bill pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead before crushing her too him. "I love you too." 


	6. Harry

**Harry **

Harry flew furiously over the pitch as rain pelted him. Hew as after the snitch and was hell bent on catching it regardless of the cost. Not two hours ago, Ron and Ginny had received news that had shaken them beyond anything that Harry had ever seen. And it had been a look and a few barely coherent words from Ron that had let him know what had happened.

Another dead.

It was his fault. For being in their house, for getting close, if he hadn't been around them maybe tragedy could have been avoided this time.

The part of his brain that reminded him the majority of the Weasley family was working for the Order, including the unflappable matriarch was being tuned out currently. Everyone would be better off if he just disappeared, just went away so they couldn't be harmed again. Things would be better like that.

As Harry flew close to the ground after catching the snitch, an ever familiar voice reached his ears.

"It's a perfect night to be hunting nargles don't you think?"

"Harry glanced down at the girl standing below him. She was dripping wet and dressed merely in her school robes, which weren't as warm as one would normally wear in rain like this, rain that could quickly turn to snow. But instead she just stood there, looking up at him with her ever large eyes. "Go back inside Luna," he said dismissively. "I'm not interested in nargles tonight."

Luna shrugged and looked away and out into the night, as if she was searching for the animal she'd spoken of earlier. "I'd rather stay out here with you if it's just the same. My housemates aren't exactly ones I wish to spend too much time with. The moon is low tonight; do you think the mooncalves will be out dancing with the wormwoods soon?"

Harry wondered how she could see the moon through the rain, and thought to tell her that mooncalves only came out when the moon was visible, but knowing Luna she wouldn't listen. "Luna, go back inside. You don't want to be out here with me," he said landing.

"Why? I like you. It's not that bad out here," she said with a shrug, looking perfectly content despite the fact that she was underdressed.

Harry whirled on her, feeling the need to shake some sense into her. "I'm not safe! Why can't you understand that?"

"Another dead?" she asked matter-of-factly, nearly causing Harry to trip over himself.

"How?"

"It's on your face," she said softly, empathy etching her dripping features. She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. "I am truly sorry Harry. Nothing hurts quite like death." Her hand slipped away and she turned. "You feel so alone."

She wasn't talking to him anymore.

How did anyone respond to that? Somewhere in his grief he had forgotten, albeit momentarily, about Luna's mother dying in front of her when she was a child. Guilt swamped through him in an instant. Why did he have to be so bad at all of this? "Luna, I…"

Luna looked at him with that knowing look she always seemed to possess. She gave off a slight shrug and turned away again. "I remember that last time we were greeted with nargles, don't you? It seems so long ago, but just a moment."

"A series of images flashed through his head. Standing by the mistletoe with Luna, deciding whether or not to kiss her, and her taking the choice away. The teary kiss with Cho underneath the same patch of greenery. Trying to recount it all to Sir--

No, it was easier not to remember.

Harry paced the grounds, still feeling ready to explode. Luna was just watching him patiently. He could feel her eyes on him, just waiting for him to do something, say something. He couldn't understand why she could be so patient, so still. He looked up at her again and for a moment wondered who had taken her scarf this time.

Evenutally he couldn't take the silence any longer and dropped his head. "It's my fault she's dead!" he whispered harshly, as if saying it too loud would disrupt the world.

"Was it your hand?" Luna asked, nearly clinically, as if she were Hermione conducting a formal interview, but her voice was softer and ethereal and almost soothing. "Did she step in front of you? Did you wish it to happen and then set it in motion?"

"Of course not! How could you think such a thing?"

She blinked at him once with those orb like eyes and then peered out fo them with a question lingering. "How can you be accountable then?"

Harry had to stop a moment. Why couldn't she just understand. "Because if it weren't for me, Mrs. Weasley would still be alive, my friends wouldn't be motherless. No one deserves that Luna. How can I face them?"

"If that's true, you're being very selfish Harry, holding all the blame on yourself. She and the Weasley's care about you too. She willingly joined the Order of the Pheonix and Dumbledore let her. And her family probably should have protected her better."

"You know better than that!"

"Do they?"

Harry gaped for a moment, never having considered such a thing. It was absolutely absurd. Not a single member of the Weasley family could think such of thing. "Of course…"

But Luna had already gone off somewhere else, creeping towards the Forbidden Forest. She cut in with, "I wonder if the thestrals are lurking tonight."

Harry chased after calling, "Luna." It took only a few long strides; once he'd caught up with her he took her arm and pulled her to a stop.

She looked at him for a moment and then over the shoulder and into the dark rain. "But then again, maybe we'll see something even more amazing. Like a danion," Luna said, returning her focus back to him, "very rarely scene, but apparently come out in response to sad feelings. To comfort. We may just have a shot. My father would be beside himself," she managed excitedly, turning away once more, as if she could really see them.

Harry, looking at Luna, couldn't help but think maybe one already had.

"Come on Luna, lets go inside and get dried off, and maybe we can go find your scarf."


End file.
